Painting Day

So, today my friend Jackie, one of my many platonic girl friends, who I have secretly had a crush on ever since we met that wondrous afternoon I was walking my dog in the park and she was doing the same with hers when that weird moment happens between dog owners as they are basically forced to watch these two creatures take in the scent of the most undesirable area that any mammal has to offer. I have not owned a dog in some time so you can get an idea of the amount of time I have been longing for Jackie.

It really was love at first sight, they way she would walk like some kind of dysfunctional robot with her feet pointed to the sides and almost like she was trying to kick her shoes off. So obviously she must have been emitting an enormous amount of pheromones for me to be able to see past all of her many god given flaws. But, hey I was just always the one who felt lucky to be around her. Jackie knew this and definitely had no problem taking advantage of the many monetizing traits which come from the frame and build of such masculinity which I encompass.

So she calls today and asks how I'm doing which is typically a precursor of a need she wants fulfilled but never a need in which I dream of doing. You know that kind of dreams where you wake up smiling and stuck to your sheets that just so happened to be the sheets you just washed the day before and now you have to do it all over again. I often wonder why that is. Its kind of like when about a month after you finally pay off your auto loan and now suddenly you have mechanic bills to worry about. Seriously, why can't they just make something that will last? And when are they going to start selling electric cars. Real electric cars, not the ones that burn gas and make electricity and then somehow are "environmentally friendly." You wanna know what an environmentally friendly car is? Otherwise known as a "Green Car." It's called a Bike, YEAH a freaking Bike.

Now as I answer Jackie's question about how I'm doing I can feel this energy in the way she breaths into the phone that she really doesn't give a crap so I stop in the middle of answering and ask what' s going on with her. She replies in a really sweet voice that nothing much is happening and she is also painting her living room and wondering if she bought pizza and beer if I would help. Normally this is not a bad deal and any real friend would gladly exchange an available afternoon for some quality time filled with painting, pizza, and beer. But Jackie is a sharp cookie. By the way, who thought of the phrase "Sharp cookie"? Cookies should never be sharp, and if they were would they be sharp in the same way cheddar is?

Okay, so the reason I say, "but Jackie is a sharp cookie" is because Jackie knows that I can't mix my high dosage of Prozac with alcohol and she also knows how much of love pizza but can't stand it the way she likes it, and she usually orders just one and knows we always argue about what to get on it and I'm just not in the mood for any confrontation right now. So I just tell her I'm on my way as soon as I finish watching an episode of Matlock. It's the one where he losses a case. Yeah, most people don't believe me about this but it really does exists. I actually really want to see her anyway. So I get there and we are about 13 minutes in to painting the ceiling and a little drip of paint falls on her face just above her lip and she wipes it off but there is still just a little bit on her and I all of the sudden think this could be my chance, I could help her get the paint off her face just like how people in movies help each other get food off there faces and end up in a passionate makeout session.

This could be it, this is the moment I have been waiting for all these years and who knew it could come in the form of a small drop of paint. So I let her know that she still has paint on her face and she goes to wipe it but I tell her its on the other side and then say no, the other side, okay up a little, then pretend to be annoyed and just get up close to her and wipe it up myself but of course by this point in time the build up of the moment have been so great that my nervousness ruins the whole plan and makes it seem less romantic and more like I'm her overweight Italian aunt who wipes the whatevers off all the kids faces.

So at this point I'm thinking damn, no good pizza, nothing good to drink, and not even a makeout session is going to happen. But at least I'm out of the house so I'm not more or less forced to watch my parents cuddle up to a movie in the basement which I called dibs on three days prior. Man, we need a sign up sheet for that part of the house or something.